


i'll dance 'til the sun comes back

by radiophile



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Character Study, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Post-Canon, Recovery, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiophile/pseuds/radiophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam found her home when she was eighteen years old. Her name is Lara Croft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll dance 'til the sun comes back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moebius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moebius/gifts).



> (See end notes for content warnings.)

There's a common saying among soldiers: _You can never go home._ Sam has watched countless war documentaries over the course of her studies, and it's a sentiment echoed in nearly every single one. After the things you see, the things you do, you can never return. The places you once called home may not have changed, but you have, irrevocably. And those places will never feel like home again.

Until college, the longest Sam ever stayed in one place was sixteen months. "Home" was an abstract concept, a word she only ever said with the unspoken _for now_ tacked on after. It didn't bother her -- she would not let it bother her -- as there was nothing at all appealing in the idea of staying in one place forever. Not with the whole wide world out there, beckoning. Maybe getting drunk and wasted weren't the best methods of experiencing said world, and maybe there were better reasons to keep moving than expulsions and arrest records, but Sam didn't care to examine them.

Then she met Lara. And it was a long time coming, but eventually Sam realized she hadn't just kept moving for the sake of it. She had been running. Family, friends, home: you can't lose what you never had. Sam hates being a cliché, but there it was. Poor little rich girl, mommy and daddy didn't love her enough so she lashed out for attention, never let anyone get too close, kept everything skin deep. Looking back on it now, Sam would be the first to laugh at herself.

When she thinks about where she could have ended up if she hadn't met Lara, Sam doesn't laugh.

The world still beckons, and Sam still wants to see it all. But -- and she's not sure when this happened, maybe sometime during the backpacking trip through Bulgaria, maybe that one shining, golden morning Lara had turned to smile at her at the peak of Kilimanjaro, maybe from the moment Sam had entered her new dormitory to see a girl standing there, laden with belongings, waiting for her to arrive before claiming a bed --

None of it is worth seeing without Lara there to see it with her.

Sam found her home when she was eighteen years old. Her name is Lara Croft.

Five years later, they escape Yamatai. And Sam learns what they mean when they say you can never go home.

\---

Time gets a little warped for a while, once they are picked up by the cargo ship. The journey back to London takes them four weeks, she is later told, but they could have just as easily told her it had taken four months and Sam wouldn't have questioned it. She doesn't remember much of the trip, only that Lara does not let her out of her sight, not even for a second. If there is desperation in the way Lara shadows her, the way she squeezes Sam's hand a little too tight, Sam is only grateful she can feel it through the haze. Lara's constant, steady presence during the endless voyage back is the only thing that keeps Sam from falling to pieces.

They are assigned quarters to share, half the size of the cabins they had on the _Endurance_ , narrow cots stacked one atop the other in a triple bunk that takes up most of the space. They both squeeze into the middle bed, Sam pressed up against the wall and Lara curled around her back. The dingy fluorescent lights of the alleyway creep under the hatch door, and even in the dim light Sarah can see how Lara's hands are scraped raw, her arms covered in cuts and bruises. Marks left by ropes and knives and bullets and fists, each one a silent proof of life.

She survived this. They survived this.

Lara wraps her scarred arms around Sam and holds her every night. They breathe together, in and out, and Sam is lulled to sleep by the warmth of Lara's breath at the back of her neck.

_I'm here. You're safe now._

Sam wants to say it back. She wants Lara to believe it, the way Sam believes it. That so long as they're together, they can make it true.

\---

"I'm not leaving her."

They aren't the first words Sam has spoken since Yamatai, but they're the first she says with such force. She sets her jaw and lifts her chin, meets the man's eyes square on.

"I'm not leaving her," Sam says again, "And you can tell my father to go fuck himself."

Sam feels Lara squeeze her hand, but doesn't turn to her. She doesn't want to see the _just think about this_ look Lara is no doubt giving her. Instead, Sam keeps her eyes on the man her father had sent to collect her at the port. One of his lawyers, Sam thinks; she vaguely recognizes him. How her father had learned when and where they'd be arriving, Sam can only guess, though she's not surprised he did.

"Ms. Nishimura, your parents are very worried--"

"Then they can come here," Sam cuts in. "And if they're too busy, you can tell them I'm doing just fine, thanks for the concern."

"Sam," Lara says softly. "I'll be fine."

"Even if that were true," Sam snaps, " _I_ wouldn't be."

"If I may," the man interrupts. "You have been through a terrible ordeal. And you should be with your family, Ms. Nishimura."

Sam has never punched anyone in her life, but if Lara hadn't grabbed her arm just in time, her father's probably-lawyer would have been the first to take that honor. As it is, she makes her intent clear, and the man backs away hurriedly, looking comically affronted.

"My family is right here," Sam declares, perhaps a touch dramatic but it was the goddamn truth. She grips Lara's hand tightly and strides past him, ignoring the lingering pain in her ankle in her haste to get out of there.

"Sam. Sam!" Lara finally manages to pull her up short at the corner of the block.

" _What?_ " Sam demands, whirling on her. "What is it, Lara? Do you want me to pretend everything is okay? Do you want me to act like I'm thrilled my parents suddenly give a shit about me? Do you want me to leave? Because--"

Lara throws her arms around Sam's shoulders and pulls her into an almost crushing embrace. It's too tight, it hurts, but Sam hugs Lara back just as fiercely, hands clutching at Lara's shirt, desperate to hold onto a piece of her.

"Don't leave me," Lara whispers. "I'm sorry, Sam. Don't leave."

Sam closes her eyes, turns to blindly press her face into Lara's hair.

"Not even if you asked me to," Sam says.

\---

The flat she shares with Lara remained undisturbed during their absence, everything exactly where they had left it before the expedition. Even the glass of water Sam had been drinking from and hastily put in the sink seconds before they rushed out the door is still standing there, half full. (Half empty.) Apart from the thin film of dust settling over nearly everything, it looks as if they had only just stepped out and returned from a quick errand.

Later, while Lara is in the shower, Sam does the math herself, taking down her wall calendar to tick off the days. Checking and rechecking, then counting again to be sure. Sixty-five days. The entire expedition, starting from the day they stepped aboard the _Endurance_ to the day they landed back on English soil, had taken sixty-five days.

Only two of those days were spent on Yamatai.

It seems impossible, but so did any number of other things before that cursed island had proven otherwise.

Sam rips out the months' pages. They don't crumple right, the paper too thick to make it satisfying. She tears them into halves and quarters, keeps going until the days are reduced to shreds. She pushes the pile off the table and into a trash bin, tossing the rest of the calendar along with it for good measure.

It's November. Time for a new calendar soon, anyway.

\---

After sharing a tiny cot with Lara for a month, Sam's bed is suddenly too vast to sleep in alone. She feels like a child again, too scared to sleep in her big girl bed, covers pulled up to her nose, jolting awake each time she drifts off because _the monsters will get me_.

Stubbornness keeps her from sneaking into Lara's room in the middle of the night, until over breakfast on the third day Lara asks, "Have you been sleeping at all?"

Sam blinks up at her over her spoonful of cereal. "Do I look that bad?" she finally asks, managing a smile.

Lara smiles back, faint but genuine. "You look great," she says. "I'm just wondering if you... I've been having some trouble, too."

Coming from Lara, the admission means she isn't sleeping at all, full stop. And it shows. The dark circles under her eyes have been there since Yamatai, but they've taken on an almost purplish hue. She looks paler, her cheeks a touch too gaunt. If Sam looks tired, Lara looks on the verge of collapse.

"Yeah," Sam murmurs. "It's been a little rough."

Lara hesitates for a long moment, biting her lip. _Just ask_ , Sam thinks. _For once in your life, just ask for something._

"Can you pass me the milk?"

Close enough.

Sam slides the carton over and, because they'll be here all day if she doesn't, says, "If it's alright with you, do you think we could go back to sharing a bed for a while?" She rubs the back of her head, flashing Lara an embarrassed smile. "I, uh, kinda got used to it."

"Of course, Sam," Lara says gratefully. "Whatever you need."

\---

That night, Lara pulls back the covers and Sam curls up beside her. Lara draws the duvet around them both, tucking Sam up against her chest and settling her arm around Sam's waist.

"Is this okay?" Lara whispers. Her breath tickles Sam's nape.

"Yeah," Sam says. It feels inadequate, so she adds, "I missed this."

Lara sighs, warming the back of Sam's neck. "Me, too."

\---

Sam used to love walking through the busy streets of London. Most people found it stressful, but Sam enjoyed the feeling of being lost in a crowd, the freedom it gave her to observe. She could spend hours framing shots in her mind's eye, watching scenes unfold and creating her own narrative. While others found it isolating to go so unnoticed, it was moments like these when Sam felt more connected to people than ever.

But that was before... Before. And walking among a throng of people is no longer the comfort it used to be. Sam used to look at strangers passing by and imagine what their lives were like, what stories they had to tell. It's still like that, but different. Previously, she would look at a man hurrying past and wonder: _Does he have a family waiting for him at home? Is that why he's rushing?_

Sam looks at the same man now and wonders: _How long would it take before he'd be willing to kill to go back to them? How far would he go?_

Sometimes Sam is struck with an overpowering urge to grab the nearest passerby and give voice to all the thoughts clamoring in her mind. She wants to tell them, "Spirits are real. Ghosts and demons and cults that worship both are real. I watched people do unspeakable things. I watched men get torn apart by monsters. The men were worse than the monsters. They burned women alive just to find the one that wouldn't burn. It was me."

Other times, she wants to tell them, "I'm in love with my best friend. I'm in love with my best friend, and I think she loves me, too. She went through hell to save my life and I don't think she ever left. What the fuck am I supposed to do."

Sam keeps her hands buried deep in her pockets and starts walking with her head down.

\---

"Are you awake?" Sam asks.

"Yes," Lara says, then tenses. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Sam assures her quickly. She rolls onto her other side, facing Lara. There's hardly any space between them, their knees brushing, Lara's hand still resting on Sam's waist. Her eyes have long since adjusted to the dark, and she can make out the anxious crease in Lara's brow, the tight set of her mouth. Sam makes a face, poking the ticklish spot on Lara's side to make her squirm. Lara yelps and pinches her back, more out of reflex than anything else, and Sam laughs, catching Lara's hand in hers and lacing their fingers together.

"Really, I'm fine," she says. "I just can't sleep. My brain won't shut up."

"What's on your mind?" Lara asks. She makes no effort to free her hand, so Sam doesn't let go.

Sam doesn't say anything for a long while. Eventually, Lara nods, once.

"We don't have to talk about it," Sam says quietly. "Not now, not ever."

"But," Lara prompts.

"But," Sam concedes, "you should talk about it with someone."

"I don't need to talk about what happened, Sam. You're safe. We got out. That's all that matters."

Lara smiles, and Sam wants so badly to believe her. She could, it'd be easy to, it's dark enough that she can pretend even while lying this close to her.

"Did we?" Sam whispers.

The smile freezes on Lara's face.

"It's been two months, and neither of us can sleep alone," Sam says. "We can't pretend this didn't change us. We can't go back to the way things were before."

Lara starts to draw her hand away, but Sam tightens her hold, pulling her back in.

"I don't want us to sleep together because of this," Sam says in a rush. She feels her face flush hot at the admission, but she won't back down now. She presses on, heart pounding, "And I don't want things to be like they were before, either. Not exactly."

"Sam," Lara breathes. She looks pained, her eyes wide, lips parted on a question she can't seem to voice.

"You would have waited forever and not said a thing, wouldn't you?" Sam says. Tears sting her eyes and she blinks them back quickly. She has to get through this. She has to be strong for Lara, for once. "You'd have let me go on, oblivious, and not even tried to make me see. You would never have asked for more."

"Sam, I don't..." Lara hesitates, and for a sinking moment Sam wonders if she had been horribly mistaken after all. Then Lara clears her throat, says, "I don't need anything more."

"But do you _want_ more?" Sam takes a steadying breath. _Be strong_. "Do you want _me_ , Lara?"

Lara stiffens, almost jerking away from Sam as every muscle goes taut. Her expression is stricken, and Sam realizes that even now, Lara thinks Sam is going to reject her.

"You already have me," Sam whispers, a confession and a promise both, and it's the biggest rush she's ever felt. She clasps Lara's hand to her chest, pressing it over her heart. "You have me. You always did, I'm just an idiot and I never saw--"

Lara kisses her, and it only takes Sam half a second to catch up. She surges up into it, eyes sliding closed even though she wants to see, wants to remember every moment of this. Lara's lips are soft and dry and she kisses Sam with the same focused intensity she has when studying artifacts. Like Sam is something precious, something Lara has discovered for the first time and wants to treasure. Lara's hand slips from Sam's grasp and travels up to cup Sam's cheek, palm rough with calluses but achingly gentle against her skin.

They break apart to catch their breath, and Lara rests her forehead against Sam's. Her fingers slide into Sam's hair, holding her close.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Lara says, then laughs as if the admission caught her by surprise. It's the first time Sam has heard her laugh since the expedition.

Sam presses a kiss to Lara's smile, just to feel it.

Home sweet home.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for mentions of violence, psychological trauma, and physical injury. 
> 
> The title is a reference to the Shintō myth of [Amaterasu and Uzume](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto).
> 
> Happy holidays, Moebius! ♥ This fic ended up a lot more somber than I had originally set out for it to be, but I hope you still like it! /o\


End file.
